


The Lie-Smith

by Epiphanyx7



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Battlefield, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Goddesses, Gods, I Don't Even Know, Love, Mild Gore, Mischief, Pre-Canon, Tricksters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She meets him on a battlefield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lie-Smith

**Author's Note:**

> I took a LOT of liberties with the myths here, judge and/or hate me for it as you see fit.

She meets him on a battlefield.

The blood of her enemies runs red over the ground, staining the earth, thousands slaughtered and thousands more bow to her, faces pressed into the slick wet mud. She stands on top of a pile of corpses, her blade bright with blood and flame, raising her face to the heavens and screaming her triumph at the stars.

The world is hers, tonight, and when she turns, slowly, spinning around with all her arms outstretched, she sees one soldier who stands upright.

How dare he, she thinks, furious. How dare he look upon her face? How dare he see her without cowering in terror?

Her instinct is to slay him, to add his blood to the pools around her, but his face stops her. He is pale and beautiful, golden, and his eyes on her are full of admiration, of worship. He looks at her as if she is glorious and wonderful, and she pauses, halts her wrath, stares back at this fearless soldier who dares to look upon her might.

He does not turn his face away from her.

Kali finds, after a long moment, that she is intrigued by him, this human male with his golden hair and strange pale eyes.

"Hello, beautiful," he says, and his smile makes something inside her flutter.

He cannot be human. He cannot be mortal. Kali will not let it be so.

Her voice carries across the battlefield, across the bodies of the fallen, across the cowering forms of her subjects. "Come here," she orders, and he obeys with a smile, as if he knew she could do no less than summon him.

That annoys her.

"Tell me," he says, daring to speak in her presence, daring to interrupt her before she has formed words. "What's a goddess like yourself doing in a place like this?" He leans on his spear, grinning at her, white flashes of teeth and a smile that is as beautiful as it is frustrating.

He should be afraid of her.

Kali does not know what to make of him.

"Who are you?" she asks, hating that she does not already know.

He winks at her, impertinent. "Oh, you'll know soon enough," he says, and then he raises a hand in a sloppy salute. "Check you later, babe."

And then he is gone, as if he had never existed, and Kali is alone with her triumph and victory.

She stares across the battlefield, and there is something inside her that has changed. She feels strange, different, as if there had been a powerful strike that moved the earth beneath her. Nothing solid, nothing corporeal, but the entire world has lost its vigor and she sees the colours around her dull and fade, the lives of her subjects are listless and hold no interest for her.

Kali finds, to her disgust, that she is bored.

Snarling, she throws her necklace of skulls to the ground, picking over the corpses of her fallen enemies for heads to replace them.

\--

"Well, well, well."

Kali turns, slowly, and sees the strange golden not-mortal standing behind her. He is dressed in plain, unremarkable clothes, but his smile is adornment enough. "Who are you?" she demands.

He laughs. "You sure do like to get to the point, don't you?"

"Answer me!" She roars, and the sky darkens with her wrath.

Looking up, at the clouds billowing in the sky, at the darkening of her face as her temper rages, the not-mortal raises his hands in surrender. "You should watch your temper," he advises her. "That kind of rage is going to give you an aneurysm, or something."

She leashes her temper, reaches forward with one hand to wrap her fingers in the rough fabric of his tunic. One hard jerk and he comes towards her, willingly, using only enough power to make it known to her that he would not need to follow her directions if he did not want to. Kali pulls on his tunic, on his wrist, closes fingers over his bicep and cups his jaw with her palm. "I am Kali," she says, an introduction she has not need to make in hundreds of years.

"I know who you are, goddess," he says, lips curving upwards into a pleased smile.

"Will you tell me your name?" She asks.

He nods. "Since you asked so nicely,” and then he reaches forward, uses his hand to push her hair behind her ear. It is a shockingly tender gesture, made more startling by his brazen presumptiveness. Men have been slaughtered and their cities razed to the ground for less offensive habits than laying their hands on a goddess --

"You may call me Loki," he says.

He smiles at her again, and Kali finds herself forgiving his impudence.

"Tell me, beautiful," he says, still smiling at her. "What do you do for fun around here?"

\--

Loki cooks the kraken after they've killed it, slow-roasted over a fire that springs up with a blue flame. Kali watches him, dripping wet and unashamed of his nakedness as he prepares her meal. The food is delicious, hot like burning and sweet on her tongue.

"You're lucky I like you," he says. "I don't cook for just anybody, you know."

Kali grabs onto his wrist, pulling slowly until he gives way and comes to her. "Why do you like me?" she asks, although the question has never appeared in her mind before. She has never wondered why people would worship her, never questioned her own authority. But he is not a mortal; he does not worship her because he has no choice.

"Why wouldn't I?"

She snarls. "Answer me, Loki. Do not avoid the question."

He looks startled, for a moment, and then he smiles again, leaning in so close that she can feel his breath on her lips. "I like you," he says, again, lips brushing hers when he speaks. "I like you because you are beautiful, and because you laugh and dance in joy when you're won a fight. Do you know that you're the only one, the only one on this hunk of rock who will laugh? Nobody has a sense of humour."

She had expected him to say something else, to compliment her beauty, to speak of her unending wrath. She is not sure what to think of him, that Loki likes her because she laughs.

"Kiss me," Kali demands.

He obeys.

\--

Years pass.

\--

Loki kisses her like she's precious, like he enjoys the taste of her lips and the feel of her arms around him. She tastes his breath, his warmth, his light -- presses against his chest so that she can feel his laughter. His ribs jerk under her hands when she trails her fingers over them, and his breath is warm and moist against her skin.

"Again," she says, and Loki kisses her, obedient as always. She does not know what to make of him, that he thinks nothing of it to defy her orders and face her wrath, yet when she asks him to kiss her, he will submit to her will as if he has no choice.

He pushes her against the wall, arms supporting her weight. Kali wraps her legs around her him, undulates against him, opens her mouth to taste him. Her fingers tangle in his hair, in his clothing, curve around the hard muscle of his shoulder, nails digging into his back and the muscles of her leg flexing around his hips. "Again," Kali breathes, enjoying the slow wet slide of his lips, the way his eyes are half-lidded. Loki's teeth nip at her lip, a sudden sharp pain that is lost in the heavy, languid pleasure of the moment.

"Again," she whispers against his lips. She can feel Loki smiling, even as he obeys.

\--

Loki paints pictures in blood, smears it on her skin, fingertips sliding over the dip of her waist. He draws lines from her belly to her breasts, draws flames on her collarbones and inscribes wings on her shoulders. Kali is at once powerful and powerless, she is unsure and confident -- Loki has changed her, has made her into something other than what she was.

Destruction and rage and war, those were her pastimes, her loves. Now, though, now she has quiet moments with Loki, she has his laughter pressed up against her back and his smiles when she closes her eyelids. Kali hates him, loathes the way he lies to her with every word.

"Where did you come from?" she asks. "They say that your parents are giants. Is that true?"

"Does it matter?" he replies, teeth scraping over the small of her back, as he trails kisses up her spine. "Do you care?"

He is infuriating.

Kali turns over, lies on her back and drags him up her body so that she can kiss his mouth. His lips move over hers, demanding and hungry and soft and yielding, and she wraps all of her arms around him, twines her legs in his.

\--

Another day, another year, another battle -- another victory, and Kali dances in blood, trailing her necklace of skulls behind her. Her eyes glow red, drunk on blood and rage and victory she dances, laughing and smiling, stomping on the corpses of those who have died. She is strong, she is invincible, she is Kali --

But she stops her dance when she hears a cry, she searches through the discarded bodies, frantically, until she finds the source. It is an instinct, nothing more, she does not need to think about what to do. Pushing away corpse after corpse, until she finds the crying child -- and then she picks him up, cradles him close, hands cupping his small and fragile head.

"There, there," she says, lifting him, holding him against her chest. Kali looks at the child with a smile, and she decides that she will take care of him.

\--

"I hear you're a mother now," Loki says, his voice without inflection.

"You have been gone a long time," she replies, without looking up. The child is sleeping, she lets him rest with his head on her shoulder, mouth open as he drools on her collarbone.

"Not that long," Loki snaps.

She looks up at him, sees that his expression is dark, ugly, an expression she does not recognize. For the first time, she realizes that she is far too accustomed to seeing Loki's smile.

She looks back at the sleeping child. "Do you need something?" she asks him.

When she looks up, he's gone.

\--

They meet again on a battlefield. This time he is a snake, wrapped around a spear and staring intently at her. "Mother of a nation," he says, tongue sliding around his words and lending them a soft, musical cadence. "Your new power suits you, Kali."

When the words leave his mouth, she realizes the truth in them. She is powerful now, more powerful than she has ever been. "Why?" she asks, before she can bite back the question.

The snake unwinds from the spear, forming into a familiar shape before her eyes. "Kali Ma," Loki says, admiration in his eyes. "Look at you, beautiful."

Kali knows that she should leave him behind, but she finds herself extending a hand to him instead, a smile curving onto her lips when he accepts without a word.

"Come with me," she says.

Loki smiles at her.

\--

Loki stands at the top of a mountain, his hand outstretched towards her. "Come with me," he says, lips curved in an almost-smile. His expression is teasing, daring, as if he does not think she will follow him. "It'll be fun, sweetheart, I promise you."

"Don't call me sweetheart," Kali snaps, but she grabs his hand.

They fall, screaming, into the dark abyss below. They fall into darkness, into light, past clouds and through eddies of wind -- Kali screams, and screams, and then when the ground looms closer she finds that Loki has wrapped her in a cloudburst, in a whirlwind, and she descends to earth as if she had always been meant to fall from the sky.

She takes a deep breath, and then another. Her face is hot, flushed, her heart pounds in her chest. Loki's hand, though, is still in hers -- fingers entwined, palm-to-palm, warm as sunlight.

She is smiling.

"Again," Kali says, turning her eyes to Loki.

He laughs. "What's higher than a mountaintop?" he asks, whispering the words in her ear.

She shivers. "We'll find something." It sounds like a promise.

\--

He likes to make her fall apart, likes to take his time, kissing her belly, her thighs. Kali is impatient and Loki is a tease, temptation itself. She can lose herself in this, in his kisses, his heat. Languorous, sweet, slow, heavy kisses that last for an eternity -- and his hands, cupping her breasts, sliding down to the slim curve of her waist. His hands leave bruises on her hips, on her wrists, his teeth marking her flesh.

"I want you inside of me," Kali says, and Loki obeys as he always does. He pushes inside slowly, filling her, his lips on her skin, mouthing obscenities against her neck.

\--

“You annoy me,” Kali says, when he dangles morsels of food too high above her to reach, moving them closer to her lips and jerking them away when she attempts to take a bite.

“You love me,” he counters.

“I don’t love you.”

“You will,” Loki tells her.

\--

They meet dark caves and explore the depths, the fight monsters and swim in the ocean’s depths. Kali does not laugh at his jokes, or spend nearly as much time as he does with mortals, toying with their beliefs and serving them clever lies.

“You waste your time,” Kali says. “Humans aren’t worth the effort, Loki.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, but hey, they sure do know how to party.” He offers her a bottle of wine.

“Get out,” she says, shoving him away.

“You love me,” he shouts, disappearing.

She turns away from where he last stood, the smile falling off of her face. She has much to do, much work to accomplish – she is a goddess, a force of nature, she is creation and destruction, birth and death – she is Kali Ma, and Loki is… nothing.

\--

“You could have them worship you,” she whispers in his ear when he rests his head next to hers. “You could become as powerful as I.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Loki scoffs. “What fun would that be?”

\--

"Loki," Kali says, touching his skin with all of her hands, her many fingertips brushing the sun-kissed warmth of him. "Not your name, not really. What is it?"

Tilting his head back, he looks up at her with his eyes half-lidded, sleepy. Alert, though, never off-guard. "I have many names," he tells her, and then he reaches and pulls her into his lap, tangling his fingers in her hair. "They call me the the Sky Traveller," he says, mouthing the words to her neck. "I am the Sky Walker, the Lie-Smith, I am Loftur." He trails kisses down her shoulder, her chest, pausing at the dip of her belly. "I am the Sly-One, the Sly-God, the Shape-Changer, the Trickster," and when he looks up at her there is laughter in his eyes.

"Could you believe any name I gave you, Kali?"

She pushes him away. "You irritate me," she says, because she does not know how to say, I need to know, I want to know, please tell me, please be serious.

"You love me," Loki replies with an arrogant smile.

"No," Kali says.

He draws her back into his arms. "Liar," he says, and the word is so soft it feels like an endearment.

"Kiss me," Kali pleads, wrapping all of her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she dares.

She loses herself in it, in the taste of his mouth and the feel of his lips against hers. He tastes like lightning, like arrogance, like blood -- and his hands on her waist are tender and gentle, holding her as if she is something fragile and precious.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr!](http://epiphanyx7.tumblr.com/) Or, if you need a dose of the fluffy and joyous things in world, try following my fluffy side blog: [Fluffpocalypse.](http://fluffpocalypse.tumblr.com/)


End file.
